


Restless Dreams and Endless Nights on the Road

by docboredom



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, it could be shipping if you want but it wasn't written that way, it's just a nice soft short vent fic is all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26650249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/docboredom/pseuds/docboredom
Summary: For a moment, Meouch looks offended. For a moment, the mood shifts. They do this. They aren’t Phobos and Sung, caught in each other’s orbits and magnetized since they met. Him and Meouch? They’re repellent. Bouncing off each other.Resistant.
Relationships: Commander Meouch & Havve Hogan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Restless Dreams and Endless Nights on the Road

“Can I ask you a stupid question?”

It’s late. It’s  _ dark _ . His processors  _ could _ tell him the specifics if he wanted, down to the rapid-fire succession of milliseconds as they race over one another, but he doesn’t bother with that. The moon is high, the stars are half faded, and the city sprawled beneath them is still alive somehow.  _ That’s _ what matters. That and how Meouch fills up the rest of the tour bus with his presence. Not just a physical thing. Moreso a matter of voice, of tone. 

Havve swings a look his way without words. The Leoian shrugs.

“It’s polite to ask.” He says around his flask, eyes flashing with amusement, throat working quick as he swallows whatever it is down, down, down. “Besides, I’m not Sung.”

I know. Thank the gods. Nobody else could  _ ever _ be Sung. There’s a hundred-thousand words he could sling Meouch’s way, but he doesn’t have the means to speak a single one. Instead, he settles with a quick jolt of his shoulders, a knowing look, a knowing pause. Meouch takes note of it. Smiles right back at him like a knife at him through the dark.

“Blade Runner.” He says after a beat, expectant. The thread is too thin though. He can’t follow along. Still, Meouch waits, then fills in- “well, you _know_.” 

I don’t, Havve says without words, optics half dim, hand cast despondently upon the dashboard. For a moment, Meouch looks offended. For a moment, the mood tilts hard. They do this more often than not. They aren’t Phobos and Sung, caught in each other’s orbits and magnetized since they met. Him and Meouch? They’re repellent. Bouncing off each other. 

Resistant. 

I could punch you, that look says. We could make this bus a warzone.

Then it fades. Shifts like the wind. Dust. Ripples. Something insufficient and insignificant. Havve can’t put it into words, but it’s there, somehow. Meouch takes another sip and it doesn’t even faze him. “Sung would be disappointed.” He murmurs casually. “It’s a really good reference.”

Havve rolls his optics. Tilts his head back. Wishes he could frown. He doesn’t like playing guessing games like this and the other man  _ knows _ . Meouch sighs and shifts a leg up onto the seat in response though, clearly not done playing, gesturing with the flask until it’s right under his metal nose. “Philip K. Dick, asshole.”

Oh. His processors finally make sense of it.  _ Oh. _

Meouch gives a little laugh as he flops back and it becomes quite clear he's gone. It’s been a while since Havve’s seen him like this. The easy skew of the other man’s body. How he becomes more feline somehow. His fangs flash as he gives another laugh and it isn’t pleasant at all. “There it is.” He lays his head against the window as his blue-gold gaze becomes unreadable. “So, do you dream of electric sheep, bud?”

Is that why you’re here, Havve?

That’s the unspoken question, he realizes, the hypothetical. A speculation of sorts. Not here here but _here_ in this existence. Do you dream? Do you empathize? Do you find anything waiting there for you in the dark? In that dreaming space. In the consciousness. In your very thoughts. 

Idiot. It’s not like he can speak his thoughts out loud. He drags a notepad out of one of his pouches to finally answer the other and stabs his pen into it until words form. ‘Sung dreams,’ Havve tells him. ‘I don’t.’

“Oh.” Meouch looks almost guilty. Maybe he had simply meant it as a joke, but it hit differently given the timing, cut a jagged little hole. He was the stringing of notes on the page and Sung was the actual song. Havve knew that. He had known it for so long.

It didn’t make it easier though.

It made it very, very hard.

“I wish  _ I _ didn’t dream, if we’re being completely honest with each other.” Meouch breaks the charged silence in a low tone, looking haunted, sounding torn. “Most of the time it’s nightmares. Same stuff every time but it still hits hards.”

The flask is starting to make more sense now. Havve sighs silently and puts his hand on Meouch’s wrist before he pries it from his grip. He doesn’t put up a fight either. He just closes his eyes. Makes an almost grateful sound. Havve winces with it. Feels his 808 give a low roll. “I just needed to get out of that room for a while after I woke up. Saw you were gone. Figured there were only so many places you could go.” He wriggles his fingers. “And now I’m also here. Ta-da.”

That's more than fair. Havve tucks the flask far, far away into the driver’s side of the car before turning back to face him. His following penwork is easier. More subtle. ‘Do you want to go somewhere?’ It’s a miracle the bastard can read at this point, but Meouch manages it, gives an easy, blase shrug. ‘Food?’

He makes a face, gestures to himself. “Like this?”

‘Curbside. You can crawl in the back.’

“Jesus Fuck.”

He has to laugh, even if it’s to himself. The look of incredulity on Meouch’s face is too much. All wide eyed in disbelief but bleary from the alcohol. ‘That or we can just fuck off.’ He writes after composing himself, feeling light and airy and oddly pleased with the situation's turn out. ‘Never look back on this town.’

“And leave these two idiots behind? I didn’t know you were a comedian, Hogan. That’s some funny shit.” He’s looking somewhat better now. Less upset. Like he’s slowly coming back to himself. “Nah, I just wanna sit here for a little while longer if that’s okay with you.” Meouch closes his eyes and makes himself more comfortable. Yawns so big his teeth show like a house cat that's eager to drift off. “Set an alarm for fifteen minutes. I’m just gonna… well, y’know.”

And then he does drift off like it’s nothing, almost between one breath and the next. Havve shuts his optics off too after a moment. Sits in the dark and the silence that they’ve both created and lets his 808 slow down. It’s almost like he’s dreaming when they’re like this, he tells himself.

Almost.   
  
Almost.

**Author's Note:**

> bro IDK i've just been streaming silent hill 2 music and feeling sad 
> 
> uh in all seriousness the title of do androids dream of electric sheep is supposed to be a commentary on HOW the androids in that series are capable of more human thoughts and feelings than the actual humans are. whoogidy spoogidy oh wowwww. that mixed in with the vibes of silent hill and its about the worlds that we create for ourselves based on what we feel and what we perceive as real is what formed this one.


End file.
